


Choices to Make

by rWolfWrites



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cunnilingus, Elain has visions of people having sex, F/M, Foul Language, I APOLOGIZE, It do a swear, SO, Swearing, They're cute, Vaginal Fingering, and that's just the author's note, chapter 3 is long, cursing, fight me, gots ourselves a sprinkling of Nessian, i guess, no, not really no, so long, was I expecting it to be this explicit?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rWolfWrites/pseuds/rWolfWrites
Summary: It's springtime, and springtime means Elucien.Was mature, now explicit because my horny butt can't be bothered to fade to black I guess.Chapter 3 is longer than the rest of the chapters combined.





	1. A Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm going to upload the horny one-shot version of this that I tend to write after 10pm, as opposed to this, which must be edited and written before 9:30.  
> I just believe in balance, and I gave y'allst Nessian fucken in Aflame so there must be Elucien fucken soon  
> Not in this  
> Yet.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The words were entirely too small, and carried much further than intended. She hadn’t meant to speak them. The thought had simply struck her—when was the last time she had seen him? She couldn’t pick out a date or a number of days spent apart.

The townhouse was too quiet. The others were at the new house (if a building so large could be just a house), but Elain had elected to stay with the rooftop garden she’d been nurturing in solitude. Being alone helped the visions. They’d changed, recently.

If she saw someone, she saw her future with them. And so she assumed, naturally, that if she saw nothing, there was nothing to see.

She hadn’t seen Lucien since the shift, but her thoughts drifted to him. And she didn’t know what was the Sight and what was her mind. Or dreams. The dreams were always . . . interesting.

He hesitated at the half-open door, hand still on the door knob. Elain stood at the top of the stairs. He’d come in while she was up on the roof, and she’d debated making her presence known, unsure of who’d come in. But the wards kept away strangers, and she didn’t want to be any more of a recluse as she already was. She’d hoped for Feyre, or Azriel, or even Rhysand. But she hadn’t dreamed it would be him.

Lucien let the door close, turning. He bowed at the waist. Elain blinked. Her feet brought her down the steps. She forgot how handsome he was every time she saw him. Something was horribly, horribly wrong this time. His copper hair barely reached past his shoulders, half the length it had been before.

“Did you cut your hair?” Elain stumbled on the last step in her surprise.  Lucien caught her easily, getting her back to her feet in a heartbeat. His hands were warm. They lingered as she looked up at him. He looked tired.

“I have to be up early,” he murmured. His scent—and hers—was heavy around them. He braced himself on his elbows over her.

“You can say no to me, Lucien,” she groaned, letting her head fall back. She liked that he never did. Something felt very good. She made a soft sound as Lucien shifted.

“Gods, Elain-“

“Elain?”

She blinked and it had gone. Lucien stood stiffly before her. She was touching his cheek, and his hand was around her wrist, not quite pulling her away. He cleared his throat softly.

Elain pulled away, retreating not one step but two, her apology rushed and gasping, burning and flustered. Had they been naked in that vision? Her soul was on fire. She couldn’t think about it ever again. Not ever. Ever. Especially not with Lucien standing so near. Lucien. Who would, or might-

“Are you all right?” Lucien gained back a step, putting the back of his hand to her forehead. “You look . . . f-flushed . . .”

She could only guess what he smelled as his nostrils flared wide and he took a deep breath.

“No, have a good trip to the mortal lands, I’m quite fine, I’ll just be-“ Elain all but ran for the stairs.

He caught her wrist again before she made it to the second step. “Wait, Elain, I want to- I think we should talk.” Lucien released her hastily. “If you’d like.”

Elain swallowed tightly. She couldn’t look at him. The house was far too quiet, them the only two in it. “On the roof?”

“Anywhere.”

It was windy, but Feyre and Rhys’s power kept everything save a gentle yet insistent breeze away. Elain took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to cleanse her mind with the fresh air.

The smell of cooking apples that was Lucien remained.

“Your garden is coming along beautifully,” Lucien commented lightly. Elain glanced toward the skies, making sure there were no incoming Illyrians or Shape-Shifting sisters. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I don’t understand you,” Elain said bluntly, twisting to face Lucien. Her skirts swished with the sudden movement.

“I- what?”

“Every time you’re near me, all I can see are visions of _us—_ together—and then in real time, right now, you can’t stand to look at me and I don’t _know_ what happens between now and then but it hardly ever varies, not any more that Rhys and Feyre, and I just don’t-“

“Elain,” Lucien said tightly. She stepped closer to him, letting him block the wind that tugged at her. He clenched his jaw. He smelled like apples and dirt and- Her face, already pink, went red. She covered her mouth with her hands before she could say any more. Lucien sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t want to be with you because we’re mates or because you claim that it’s inevitable. I just . . . I’d like to _know_ you.”

“Is that why you’ve been hiding in the mortal lands?” Elain mumbled through her hands. Lucien’s head whipped toward her. While certain her face would be red until she died, she lower her hands, letting him see the wry twist of her mouth. “So you can get to know me better?”

He shrugged a shoulder, a guilty look creeping across his face. “I needed time. I thought . . . I don’t know. I thought about you more than I thought I would. I miss you. When I’m away. And I barely know you. So, I thought it was some kind of . . . sign.”

“A sign?”

“I’m not good at this, if you want sweet talk, go to Rhysand.”

“Are you familiar with Rhysand’s sweet talking then?”

Lucien laughed lightly. It was a good laugh. Small, but good. Elain wasn’t sure she’d heard it before.

“Why did you cut your hair?”

“I lost a bet.”

“A bet? With whom? Over what?”

They talked until the sun fell. Random things, Elain’s awful childhood, Lucien’s horrible brothers. The different flowers in her gardens.

Once started, they couldn’t seem to stop.

“Didn’t you have a meeting?” Elain asked, shivering. The roof had stayed warm against the dark and wind, but if she moved too far from Lucien, it got chilly abruptly. It was embarrassing how long it took her to figure that out. She let her shiver pull him closer, and they went inside, his arm brushing against hers.

“I think I’ll be forgiven this one time,” Lucien grinned carelessly at her. She smiled, ducking her head and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I think Feyre will agree that we needed to talk.”

“Did we?”

“It’s been hours, Elain,” Lucien reminded her as they reached the door to her room. Was it silly, for her to escort him down to the door when he knew the way and that she would be coming right back up? Or was it polite to escort him anyway? He stopped when she did. “I’d much rather talk to you than defend my actions against Rhys and Feyre.”

His mouth fell over hers, a hand replacing it as soon as he broke away. He was braced over her, and the smell of him and her and them was overwhelming in the dark. She squeaked into his hand as he moved against her abruptly, his mouth falling to her neck. Her dress was gone. She didn’t care. “We don’t want Rhys to hear. I’m in trouble enough as it is.”

“You’re always in trouble with Rhys, love.”

“Elain?”

She blinked away the sight of him hovering over her. He was still near, his face concerned.

“I don’t know when I am sometimes,” Elain admitted softly. His brows pulled tighter together. “Sometimes I’m in the big house before Feyre with Mother. Sometimes I’m in the little house with Feyre but not Mother. Then the big house with Nesta and Father, and Feyre’s there for a little bit. She mostly _isn’t_ though. And then I’m here. And there’s a war, but I don’t really remember it. I remember . . . Azriel and Feyre came for me. I . . . I don’t know where you were.”

“If I had come with Azriel and Feyre, I wouldn’t have been an asset,” Lucien said lowly. She watched his face as he swallowed, looking down at his hands. She took them, because they were shaking. “When something like that happens, and Mates are forcibly separated, it’s not good. There have been a lot a Fae killed with Mates as the bait. Most of them nobility. It’s a . . . tactic.”

“You would’ve done something foolish?”

“I’m good at foolish,” Lucien smiled. Elain laughed softly.

“I don’t doubt you.”

“What do you see of the future, when you aren’t here or in the mortal lands?” Lucien asked.

Elain looked at him, really looked at him. The russet eye, the golden one. Both beautiful in their own right. His red hair, his tanned skin, the high cheek bones and sharp jaw. Those were beautiful too. She wanted him, she realized. She wanted to see what was dream, what was possibility, and what was real.

“You’re a good bed partner,” Elain said boldly. Lucien’s brows shot up. She grinned for having surprised him. He blinked at her, cleared his throat.

“Am I?” Lucien narrowed his eyes, his fingers tightening around hers. She straightened under his gaze, dipping her chin. “For you, in particular, or for everyone?”

“I don’t know,” Elain admitted. “I’ve never Seen you fuck another person.”

“But you have Seen me fuck you, haven’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Elain lied, keeping her chin up. “Sometimes I can’t tell what I imagine, what I dream, and what I See.”

“Ah,” Lucien grinned. “Do you often daydream about me taking you to bed?”

“What with the Mating Bond and all, how do I know it’s not _you_ thinking about taking me to bed?”

Lucien laughed. A better laugh than the one before it, as he tipped his head back, shaking his shorter hair as his eyes crinkled closed.

Elain thought about the male before her. Her Mate. Who she hardly seemed to know, but already wanted to trust. He hadn’t laughed at her attempt to be bold. She could surprise him. She wanted to. She hoped he could surprise her, too.

“I’d like to propose a deal,” Elain blurted. Lucien’s attention focused back on her immediately. She braced herself under that intense gaze. “Three dinners. And then, we decide if the Mating Bond is something we want to pursue right now.”

“Not ‘and then we forget about the Mating Bond forever?’”

“No,” Elain shook her head. She swallowed, “As far as I understand it, we only ever get one Mate. I’m not going to make a mistake by telling you ‘no’ a century too soon and missing lifetimes of happiness.”

“You think this can work?” Lucien asked. Elain nodded. “You want it to?”

“I’m not sure,” Elain smiled. “Hence the three dinners?”

Lucien huffed lightly. “Fair. When?”

“How long are you in the Night Court?”

“Well, at least another day, considering I have to report to Rhys and Feyre,” Lucien said with a wince. “And then, they’ll decide if I’m more useful here or not. It _has_ been a year, and I’ve not accomplished all that much in the South.”

“Tomorrow then, before you go?” Elain suggested.

“Of course,” Lucien lifted her hand to his lips again. She bit her lip.

“It was nice to meet you, Lucien,” Elain said, moving closer to him. He was spectacularly handsome, though she wasn’t sure if that was fact or just the Mating Bond. She didn’t think she cared. He was beautiful. And he was so nice, and easy to be near to, and funny without trying.

“Well met, Lady Elain,” Lucien murmured. His eyes were burning, and so was she. She stretched up on her toes, kissing his cheek softly. He smiled at her slowly. “I’m going to go now.”

“Have a good night,” Elain said, not letting go of him. He didn’t pull away. She pulled slightly on their joined hands, leaning closer still. His eyes flickered down to her lips, his smile fading into an intense sort of gaze that had heat rushing through her body.

“Elain,” Lucien whispered, and her eyes drifted shut.

Were three dinners really necessary? Wouldn’t it be easier to take him into her bedroom now, to see if-

The door downstairs opened with a sharp noise as her nose touched his. “Elain?! Have you seen Lucien?! He was supposed to meet me for lunch!”

Elain cursed at her little sister’s intrusion. Lucien made a choked sound, covering his mouth with both their hands. Elain turned red to her toes.

“I can smell your sorry ass, Lucien!” Feyre’s voice came much closer, and Elain could hear her charging up the steps. Lucien tried to drop her hands, but she only let him release one. He gave her a _look_ she recognized vaguely.

“I make this choice, not my sisters,” Elain said softly.

“You won’t be able to make a choice once they’ve killed me,” Lucien said drily. Elain clicked her tongue, lacing her fingers with his.

“There you _both_ are,” Feyre said, implying by voice alone the oddity of what she’d stumbled upon. Elain looked over her shoulder at her sister.

“Hello, Feyre. How have you been?”

“Good,” Feyre smiled easily. “It was windy today, did the weather wards work well enough? Cassian flew into my studio on accident.”

“Did he?” Lucien made the hallway brighter. Elain glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to step forward, with Elain less of a barrier between him and Feyre. “I thought he was in the Steppes?”

Feyre’s face tightened considerably. “There was an incident. He’s already back.”

“Is Nesta okay?” Elain asked. Feyre nodded, though the way that she looked at Lucien made Elain think she might be lying. Elain could hardly ever tell with Feyre.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Feyre said. “I really didn’t think you would be here, Lucien.”

“We needed to talk about something,” Elain said.

“I’ll say,” Feyre coughed not-so-subtly. Elain flushed, glancing back at Lucien. “You’re not great with mental shielding, Elain.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Elain gasped, dropping Lucien’s hand. He chuckled behind her. She looked between the two, both clearly trying not to laugh at her.

“We’ll work on it,” Lucien vowed, touching her cheek and kissing the top of her head. “Good night, Elain.”

He left her with Feyre. She was going to kill him at their dinner.


	2. Dinner on the River

“You look lovely,” Elain murmured, fixing her hair for the fourth time. The same stubborn strand puffed up on the side of her head, making it look like she had a damned horn. She frowned, trying for the fourth time to tuck it under the rest of her hair. She’d decided to wear something a little nicer than she usually did. A deep green dress, cinched at the waist, with a skirt that fell from her hips to her ankles. Her arms were bare, the neckline just shy of plunging. She turned in the mirror a few times, watching the skirts swish. She’d spent most her day in the garden, so was simply happy that she’d gotten all the dirt out of her nails in the bath.

The horn came back. She muttered darkly and undid all the braids. Two by her temples, leading to another down her back. A few smaller ones here and there.

The low chuckle behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin. She twisted, one hand flying to her heart. Lucien pursed his lips, then covered them with his hand.

“How long have you been there?” Elain asked. Lucien just shook his head. He let out a little squeak. “Did you glamour yourself?” He nodded. “Why?!”

Lucien shrugged, slowly lowering his hand enough to grin at her. “I didn’t want to disturb you. And then I didn’t think you’d ever be ready so-“

“Am I late?”

“No, I’m exceptionally early,” Lucien said. Elain narrowed her eyes. There, just under his gorgeous cheekbones, was the tiniest little flush. Elain smiled at that.

“You can go wait until I’m ready.”

“At your pace, it’ll be dawn before we get dinner.” Elain’s mouth dropped open. Lucien stepped forward, his eyes wide. “Sorry, not that that’s bad, I just- Sorry. That was rude.”

Elain turned away from him, back to the mirror. “You know, for an emissary and a High Lord’s son, you really have the worst manners.”

“I do, I know,” Lucien said. His feet were light on the carpet. He quickly became too close to avoid. He didn’t touch her, watching as she ran her hands through her hair. “May I?”

“If you wanted to braid someone’s hair, you shouldn’t have cut yours.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be quite so upset about it.”

“I’m not,” Elain said immediately. Lucien raised an eyebrow at her reflection. She sighed. “It was pretty.”

“It’ll grow back,” answered Lucien. He shifted awkwardly behind her. “May I do your hair now?”

“Do it well.”

“I’ve been braiding hair for a long time, Elain,” he reminded her. His hands touched her wrists, pulling them out of her sun-lightened hair. She folded them in front of herself. His hands started tugging gently. “Have you been in the garden a lot?”

“All day,” Elain said. Lucien hummed.

“It’s your turn,” he said against the crown of her head.

“But you’re so good at it,” she answered, dropping her head to his bare chest. He panted against her for a moment.

“You just need practice,” he said with the sort of tone that said all the practice in the world wouldn’t help her. He was trying to show off.

“Lucien.”

“Elain.”

The sharper than usual tug on her hair dragged her back. She blinked. The mirror in front of her showed just how flushed she’d gotten. Lucien focused very intently on her braid, not looking at her. She could see how red he’d gotten regardless.

“Sorry.”

“Maybe if you told me, it’d help?” Lucien offered. There was a tightness in his voice that she liked. It didn’t help the fire running through her blood.

“Well,” Elain paused. “I think I was supposed to lie. About what we’d been doing.”

“What we’d been doing?” Lucien held out a hand. She gave him a leather tie automatically. He still would not look at her in the reflection.

“Fucking against a wall.”

“Cauldron-“ Lucien awkwardly held her hair, bending to pick up the fallen tie. She could feel him breathing. Each exhale was a little warmer, like a flame growing behind her. He tied off her hair hurriedly. She heard him swallow. “You shouldn’t do that to me.”

“I thought you wanted me to tell you about the vision,” said Elain innocently. His gold and russet eyes snapped to the image in the mirror. She held his gaze easily, even though she could see that the redness had dropped from her cheeks, down her neck, into her chest. His eyes seemed to follow that path, too. Elain cleared her throat, and they jumped back up.

“Elain,” he said.

“Lucien,” she answered. He carefully pulled her braided hair over her shoulder, brushing two knuckles against the back of her neck. Her breath caught.

“You _do_ look lovely,” Lucien said huskily. Elain took the tiniest step back, closer to him. She turned to look at him, finding herself alarmingly close to him. He touched her chin lightly. “We- We should go to dinner.”

“We don’t have to,” Elain whispered.

“Three dinners. Your rules, not mine,” Lucien stepped back, and the warmth died. Elain shivered without it.

They were at the restaurant before she could get her thoughts back in order. The owner led them to a tiny little table overlooking the Sindra and left them with a small basket of bread.

“Rules,” Elain blurted, smoothing out her dress. Lucien started a little, though he’d already been watching her. “We’re deciding whether this- _this_ is going to work. So, we should have some things to look for. No, not look for . . . er, criteria. Things to test.”

“Okay,” Lucien smiled slowly. She answered in kind. “Like what?”

Elain glanced around. They were as alone as one could be in the streets of Velaris. Fae ambled by, the sun was beginning to dip, the river glistened. There was a lot of noise. A hundred footsteps all at once, marching like-

“Elain,” Lucien stretched across the table to touch her shoulder for a moment. Her eyes skittered to his hand, his face, the table, the wall, the river- “Elain. Look at me.”

She did. She tried. His gold eye and his russet eye. The scar over his face. His tanned skin. He left his hand palm up on the table, wiggling his fingers slightly. She placed her hand in his almost automatically. He smiled again, but there was a wariness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been out of the house in-“

“It’s all right,” he said easily. “What sort of criteria are we talking about?”

“You need to be helpful in the garden, not a burden,” Elain started. He nodded. “So, we should spend some time there. And we should be able to sit in silence without it feeling odd. And we should be able to talk. And-“

“Shall we make a list?” Lucien asked, raising one eyebrow. The smile dancing over his lips softened.

“You must tell me every little thing that happened during the day, even if it takes all night.”

“Will I have to tell you that I’ve told you about my day in minute detail as well?”

Elain feigned affront, “You shouldn’t ever be mean to me, or rude, or sarcastic, or-“

“That’s going to be difficult.”

“You shouldn’t interrupt me, either.”

“My sincerest apologies.”

“And you can’t ever tell me that I’m wrong,” Elain insisted. Her smile broke against her willpower to remain impassive.

“You are an impossible female,” Lucien said dramatically, squeezing her hand. She giggled. “I will do my utmost best to break all of your silly little rules in turn.”

“I hope so,” Elain beamed. “I imagine life will get boring if we do the same thing every day for decades.”

“Centuries,” Lucien correctly softly. Elain swallowed tightly, but nodded. He looked away from her, but he still held her hand.

A life stretching centuries was hard for her to comprehend. Even after a year of no change to her form except mild fluctuations in her weight and her hair.

The food was excellent. They continued to chat idly. Comparing memories of the South, complaining about Feyre and Rhys, but mostly Cassian, worrying after Azriel and Nesta because no one else seemed to. The sun disappeared, and they had to pause to watch the sunset in all it’s glory, then the moon rise, and the stars. It was good.

The plates were taken away, and the bill was put to Rhys’s account (with a pair of winks shared between the owner and Lucien). Still, Elain could not bring herself to stand.

“I liked this,” Elain admitted. “Sitting and talking.”

“We can stay here for a little bit longer, if you’re not ready to go yet,” Lucien offered. Elain nodded, and he nudged her foot with his. She nudged him back. “In terms of your criteria, I think we’ve tested a few categories.”

“Yes?”

“We’ve eaten together, and neither of us have horrid manners or eat too loudly,” Lucien held up one finger. Elain nodded, accepting it though it hadn’t been mentioned before. It wasn’t something she was worried about, not from Lucien at least. “We talked. We didn’t. Both were just fine.” Two more fingers. “Should we just do five or the full ten?”

“Five,” Elain suggested. A plan formed, and even the thought of it sent blood rushing through her. Lucien’s eyes narrowed. She hoped it was him being perceptive more than her being obvious. She didn’t want every Faerie on the street seeing her plan on her face.

“All right,” Lucien leaned back in his chair, an ease about him as he watched her. “What are the last two?”

“Well, I think that on every one of our dinners, we should see if we meet all five naturally,” Elain hedged. “So, I must insist that you walk me home, and we’ll discuss the other two on the way.”

Lucien didn’t give up. He gave her a dangerous grin. His teeth flashed. “But, I thought you wanted to stay a little longer?”

“The fourth category is how well you do in my garden. We won’t make it to the fifth if you don’t pass all the first four,” Elain said confidently. Lucien’s smile only broadened.

“What’s so special about the fifth?”

“I said we could discuss it on the way, or perhaps you weren’t listening to me,” Elain said imperially.

“They’re your rules,” he said.

“They’re not _my_ rules, and they’re barely rules at all.” Elain shook her head. “It was my idea, but you agreed. That means they’re our plans.”

“And what _do_ you have planned for me, my lady?”

“Hopefully not anything too different than what you have planned for me,” Elain said. Lucien tilted his head.

“If you ever stop blushing every time you make a suggestive comment, I’ll . . . Cauldron, I don’t even know what I’d have to do to fix that,” whispered Lucien. Elain ducked her head, turning to look out at the Sindra.

Lucien cleared his throat, pushed out his chair, and stood. She watched his boots until he offered his arm. She stood and took it, letting him pull her close. The night brought a slow cool creeping into the city, and she was glad to have him at her side. The walked slower than she’d liked, but no amount of subtle urging could convince Lucien to abandon his leisurely stroll. She cursed herself. He knew, of course. The fifth category was all she could think about with him near her.

She just needed to . . . She wanted him flustered, if she was going to be. Equal ground.

So, she had to put him at ease and then bring it up again when he wasn’t expecting. Surprise had to be the key. She talked about her garden and what he should expect to find and how to find the weeds until they were just two blocks from the townhouse.

“That’s all about the garden,” Elain hummed. “And after that, if you don’t step on anything, we’ll go back inside, and go to my room.”

“Your room,” Lucien repeatedly, a decidedly un-innocent note in his voice. “What’s in your room?”

“My bed,” Elain whispered, knowing full well that he would hear her. She leaned into him. “I dressed up for tonight, but you can unwrap me any way you’d like.” He turned into a furnace beside her. “You can have me any way you’d like.” A low growl cut through the street. She smiled. “What if we’d be fantastic friends and horrid lovers? Seems like the earlier we make sure, the better.”

“Elain,” he said tightly. She turned to look at him. His eyes were dark, but still he managed an easy smile. “Wouldn’t it be better if _you_ decided how you wanted _me?_ ”

Elain blinked twice. That had never seemed like an option before, but now that she had it? “Yes.”

Lucien kissed the top of her head. “Can I winnow us, or are you going to make me walk?”

“Walk.”

He groaned. “Now who’s being mean?”

The first door opened easily. Lucien held it for her, but before she could open the frosted glass door, Lucien planted a hand on the edge of it. She turned to frown at him, and he pressed closer, caging her against his body. “We should go inside.”

“I walked you to your door,” Lucien said. She nodded. Already, his chest heaved. She saw in his eyes what it was. _Restraint._ He was holding himself back. She didn’t want him to. “Walked you to your door. That’s the end of dinner, in the mortal realm, isn’t it?”

“I’m inviting you inside,” Elain murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek. He swallowed, and she felt that his eyes might swallow her whole. Her heart thrummed wildly. “That means dinner isn’t over.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to leave yet,” Elain said boldly. “I want to know if what Mor says is true.”

“What?” Lucien shook his head slightly.

“I want to know,” Elain bit her lip, trying to remember how the golden haired beauty had said it. She pulled Lucien slightly closer to make sure he didn’t notice. “I want to know if you fuck like you’ve got fire in your blood.”

His eyes flicked over her face, first at her eyes, then her mouth, then pink cheeks, then mouth, then-

His lips were upon hers. Warm, soft, the best sort of rough. She sighed against him and he pushed her against the door. It rattled slightly. His hands were everywhere. Her hair, her hips, her ass. Hers greedily attempted to pull him closer.

Her entire body sung with every shift of his skin against hers.

“Inside,” Elain said into him.

“Yes,” Lucien hummed back. One of his hands vanished, the other slipping around her waist as he continued to kiss her. The door at her back opened, and she pulled Lucien into the townhouse.

“I thought I’d heard something.”

Elain squeaked, but Lucien growled, low and _mean_. Elain hid behind him out of sheer embarrassment, for it was Rhys leaning against the wall by the stairs. He could be in her head in an instant, probably already was. She and Lucien really did need to work on her mental shielding.

“Is this why you want to stay in Velaris?” Rhys asked. Elain gripped the back of Lucien’s shirt as he growled again.

“Does it matter if it is?” Lucien snapped.

“Lucien,” Elain said softly. She looped her arms around his waist, as though she could stop him if he wanted to lunge at Rhys.

“Are you and Feyre purposefully interfering with our Mating?” Lucien asked.

“We’re not stupid enough to,” Rhys said, holding up a placating hand. “However, I might suggest that you don’t snap the bond before you’re ready.”

Elain frowned, “I thought Lucien already-“

“When it’s recognized on both ends, it’s different,” answered Lucien. “I knew immediately. But it hasn’t really set yet. It’s . . . different.”

“How do I recognize it? What if I do it on accident?”

“I highly recommend that Lucien stays out of your bed until you’re sure about what you want,” Rhys said. Lucien snapped his teeth. “Just a suggestion, little fox.”

“Why are you here?”

“It _is_ my house,” Rhys said flippantly. “And Feyre’s having a dinner next week. You’re both invited. You’ll return to the South until then, Lucien.”

“No,” Elain said softly.

“I need to find someone to take his job. There’s nothing I can do until then,” Rhys shrugged. He winnowed away without further ado.

“I hate him,” Lucien growled. Elain let him go.

“I guess I know when our next dinner will be,” she said quietly. She stepped away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Elain.” He moved in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I forgot about the Mating Bond. I forgot why all I wanted to do was- I wasn’t trying to force the Bond. I promise. This . . . this is why I tried to stay away for so long. I just don’t know what I’ll do, I don’t know if I can control myself. I’m trying. But when you say those things, when you _want me_ the way that you do, it’s so much harder. I can’t see why I shouldn’t, because if you want me, then there’s no reason-“

“You’re rambling,” Elain touched his wrist. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring his nervous laugh. “I believe you. You know just as well as I do that I can’t really control myself around you either.”

“The fifth category can wait,” Lucien kissed her brow. “We can wait. Three dinners.”

“Two, now.”

“Two.”

He kissed her softly. She stretched on her toes as he pulled away, and he smiled against her.

“I am going to go back to the House of Wind,” Lucien said. She opened her eyes to see his smile. “I don’t care how many steps it is, I could use the exercise.”

“Or you could stay here,” Elain offered. He shook his head. “Not- Not _with_ me. But near. In one of the other rooms.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Lucien hummed.

“One flight of stairs,” Elain gestured to them. “Or a couple hundred?”

“Stop making sense, you beautiful creature,” Lucien kissed her again. “We should stop now.”

“Yeah,” Elain bit him. “We should.”

But they didn’t. Not until Elain’s hands slipped under Lucien’s tunic, and his fingers found the lacing on the back on Elain’s dress.

He winnowed himself straight into a cold bath. She could tell from the little yelp that echoed through the house.

She left her dress at the door to the room beside hers.


	3. Teeth and Nails

“So?”

Elain blushed at her sister’s raised eyebrow alone. “Rhys told you.”

“Rhys didn’t have to.”

“But he did.”

“He’s happy for Lucien,” Feyre said. “And I’m happy for you.”

“But?” Elain prompted with a sigh. Feyre adopted a carefully innocent look that had never fooled her sisters. Elain waited her out.

Elain had offered to show Feyre how to bake apple-turnovers months ago, but with all her duties as High Lady and art shop owner, Feyre had pushed it back with apologies until Elain stopped suggesting days and times at all. Finally, Feyre had shown up at her door, all but kidnapping her. She’d taken the whole week off, because she thought she was too busy. Elain didn’t argue, and Feyre had a guest room prepared in the manor. They were trying to get Nesta in from the Steppes, but Cassian was being even more evasive about her well-being than usual. Rhys promised Elain that he’d get to the bottom of it. Elain appreciated that more than she could say.

“You deserve a choice,” Feyre said, avoiding Elain’s gaze by checking the oven _again_. It’d barely been five minutes.

“You chose Rhysand,” Elain said sharply. She poked Feyre to get her to stop meddling. Feyre stepped back, wiping her hands on her flour dusted pants. “Just because he’s my Mate, I can’t choose him?”

“No,” Feyre admitted. “I’m just . . . making sure.”

“So am I,” Elain said. She took a deep breath. “Lucien and I agreed to have three dinners, to decide whether or not we want to pursue the Mating Bond in full.”

“My understanding is that had you not been interrupted, you would have already,” Feyre said slyly. Elain pretended not to have heard her. She turned to the smaller bowl containing the glaze for their turnovers. She stirred it idly.

“We’ve had one dinner and it went well,” Elain smiled, remembering how flustered she’d gotten him, if only momentarily. Feyre tried to dip her finger in the glaze and Elain caught her wrist, clicking her tongue. Feyre smiled like a wolf and used her other hand to steal some, quick as an arrow. Elain shook her head at her devious little sister.

“I’d heard,” Feyre said, still with that salacious edge to her voice. Elain blew at an errant strand of hair. Feyre flexed her fingers and it tucked itself behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re trying things out.”

“Elain!” Feyre shrieked. “Elain, get back!”

The world went white, but Feyre grabbed her back with invisible hands.

“ _Elain!”_

“Elain?” She stumbled away, gripping wildly for the counters. “Elain, what did you see?!”

Elain didn’t know how to open or close her mind, but she felt Feyre’s questioning push at her mind and answered it as best she could. Feyre’s eyes scanned her carefully.

“That wasn’t much. Does that- When-“

“I never know. With how little it was, it might not happen,” Elain said through panicked panting. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I never mean to-“

“It’s all right,” Feyre touched her shoulder tentatively. Elain flung herself onto her sister. It took Feyre a moment, but she clung tightly in response. “I’ll try to dig up some more research on Seers, try to find something. Someone has to know something.”

“Day Court,” Elain murmured. “They have the libraries, right?”

“Helion,” Feyre frowned, pulling away from her. She went and checked on the turnovers again. Elain watched Feyre’s fingers drum as she thought. She could all but hear her thoughts, running like a river. Elain cleared her throat a little bit. Feyre, still staring into the oven, asked, “What else about Lucien?”

Elain crossed the kitchen to shut the door, wincing at the heat blasting out. “You worry too much.”

“I worry the right amount.”

“There is one problem,” Elain felt heat rise into her face. Feyre lifted that one eyebrow again. “Besides the visions thing.” She quickly explained her predicament—wanting Lucien in every way but not necessarily wanting the Mating Bond just yet. Feyre listened, nodding along.

“Rhys and I . . . _did things_ ,” Feyre said carefully. “Before we Mated. I mean, Rhys knew, but I didn’t- didn’t really, so . . . It could work. For you.”

“What things?” Elain asked. Feyre quickly tried to hide her smile behind her teeth. It didn’t work. Elain scowled and pretended that she would march out of the kitchen. Feyre raced around the marble topped island and beat her to the door.

“You know,” Feyre said, smirking slightly. “There are things to do before . . . regular sex.” Elain dropped her hands to her hips, her mind trailing to Grayson without her consent. He never seemed to want to do anything but attack her mouth with his and shove up her skirts before anyone noticed they’d disappeared. Feyre winked, drawing her attention. “Fingers.” She wiggled them.”Mouths.” She stuck out her tongue for a moment.

“ _Oh_.” Elain gasped, wandering back to the other side of the kitchen. She bit her lip for a moment, wondering how much she could get out of Feyre. “So you and Rhys, even . . . before?”

“Yeah,” Feyre sighed, her eyes glazing over. Elain waited for elaboration. Feyre just went to the sink and washed her hands absently. “Yeah.”

Elain almost didn’t want to ask. “It was- was still good then?” Feyre nodded, pink crawling up into her cheeks.

Rhys appeared at the door to the kitchen mere moments later. “Feyre, I need you for the- for the-“

“Right, yes, I’m sorry, I forgot the-“ Feyre reached for his hand, pushing off the counter. Rhys grabbed her and they winnowed somewhere.

Elain sighed, knowing exactly what had happened and holding no naïve notions of their innocence. She knew she should leave before the noises started, but she couldn’t just abandon the turnovers. Nor did she have any way to call for aid.

Her thoughts turned to her own mate in her slightly frightened silence. What would Lucien say? What would he do? She had a solution, temporary as it might be, to their problem.

Elain had never thought she’d have to find a work around for wanting sex too badly. Grayson had whispered scandalous things to her, had tried at least, before he did his business and asked, “Was that good?”

She always said yes, though she knew she’d never finished in the way Feyre had once described. She didn’t want to disappoint him, make him look elsewhere. She had lost him regardless.

But Lucien . . . Lucien. _Lucien._ Her mind pulled back to him endlessly. Barely gone a month; Feyre’s dinner pushed back again and again. The situation in the Mortal Lands was too tenuous to so suddenly extricate their best emissary. Too tenuous for Elain to go visit, even if Cassian and Azriel went, but Cassian couldn’t come because Nesta was still in the Steppes and he’d ruined a building the last time he left but no one would tell Elain _why_ or _what happened to Nesta_ and she just wanted her sister and her Mate and her sister and the others and-

“Breathe.”

Soft as shadows, dark as night. Elain closed her eyes tight as Azriel sat her down on the cool kitchen tile. Twin arms wrapped around her, tickling slightly. Nuala and Ceridwen sat on either side of her, humming together quietly. Azriel crouched in front of her.

“Is Nesta-“

“I’ll find out.” Azriel didn’t know. Elain shuddered violently. It was never good when Azriel didn’t know. It hadn’t happened more than- “Elain, breathe.”

“Breathe, it’s going to be all right,” Azriel said softly. She squeezed his hand as the pain threatened to rip her in two. “Cass, go find Lucien.”

“Why were _we_ left with her?!”

“Cass.”

“Don’t yell at me, we need to keep calm, remember!?”

“Get Lucien!”

Elain screamed as the pain rose.

“She’s having another vision.”

“We need to control them.”

“Don’t look at me.”

She opened her eyes. She was not where she had been. She had been on the kitchen floor. Now, she laid in her guest bedroom, on soft cotton sheets. The voices came from the hall. Elain rolled to the side of the bed, then clambered up carefully. She felt strange.

She swayed to the door, opening it quickly. Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel looked to be arguing. Feyre’s cheeks were red, Rhys’s hair tousled more than usual. Azriel’s face had the pinched, headache look.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” Feyre said. She shook her head. “I was gone for five minutes-“

“Not even,” Rhys’s brows pulled with concern. “I’ll contact Helion. He might have something stored away, something that survived.”

“Thank you,” Elain bowed her head slightly. Feyre gripped her hand tightly, giving her a small smile.

“We’re going to fix this.”

Elain smiled back, pulling away. “I can’t be fixed.”

***

Lucien found her in the garden. He couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. After all, it was the first place he’d thought to look, odd tugging in his chest or no.

She wasn’t gardening. He thought she was asleep. Her eyes closed, boots sticking out from under a nest of sunflowers, hiding in the shade behind them, raspberry vines threatening her hair. She looked peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, color in her skin, her overly large, floppy hat mere inches from her hand, the ribbons draped around her fingers. Lucien smiled.

This was exactly why he wanted to be in Velaris. Days like this. The security to nap in a garden without anyone thinking twice about it. Mild weather, gorgeous nights. He understood Rhys more than he’d ever thought he would, watching Elain sleep.

He smiled and laid down next to her, stealing her ginormous wicker hat and dropping it over his face to block the light. He was asleep before he could place the scent of her shampoo.

Being Emissary to the Mortal Lands was exhausting. Jurian was about as endearing as the Bogge, most the Queens were unbearable, and having a sorcerer as the middle man for the one Queen he could stand? Lucien talked in circles. All day. Every day.

It was worse than trying to convince his father of something. His father gave definitive answers, not, “We’ll come back to it at a later date.” What did that even mean?! Didn’t they know Lucien had hundreds of thousands more ‘later dates’ than any of the humans, or all of them combined?

It didn’t help that his mind was often occupied with the female now beside him. His Mate.

Who he wanted to sink into, to drown in, to burn for. He wanted to have her thighs over his shoulders and her taste on him and his name on her astonishingly beautiful lips. He wanted everything he could possibly get, wanted to give everything he could.

But it was just the Bond. Wasn’t it?

By the sun, it wasn’t too long after that when Elain stirred, waking him. Lucien groaned, reaching up for his—Elain’s—hat.

Rosewater. Her shampoo was rosewaterand hibiscus. He took a deep breath, fully prepared to pull Elain to him and bury his face in her hair.

Only to hear the booming laughter of his least favorite Illyrian.

“ _Feyre!_ You have to come see this!”

“Piss off,” Lucien grumbled, blinking against the sun as he pushed the hat to the ground.

“The fucking- FEY-RUUUUUUH!” Cassian bellowed. “He’s got her hat!”

“Shut your damn mouth already,” Lucien snapped, sitting up, narrowly dodging a prickled raspberry vine.

“Fey-“

“He said _be quiet!_ ”

Cassian stilled, his shoulders tightening in a way that had Lucien jumping up on pure instinct. Cassian tilted his head, watching Elain like a confused bird of prey. Lucien snarled, snapping his teeth.

No one got to look at Elain like that.

No one.

“She’s got some Archeron teeth on her after all, huh?” Cassian smirked. Lucien hated him, well and truly hated him. Perhaps only for that moment, but it was enough. “They do have such _fascinating_ skills with those mouths of theirs.”

Lucien saw red. Not only a slight against his Mate—his Elain—but also against his friend, against Feyre and the damned woman who’d _stolen from the Cauldron_ -

Cassian caught him by the front of his shirt and threw him across the lawn without more than a grunt. Lucien rolled to his feet. Cassian smirked again, broader.

“Cassian,” both males turned toward the door of the house. Feyre and Nesta stood, hands dropped to their hips, identical looks of disapproval on their faces.

“Nesta!” Elain squealed, sprinting across the grass. She flung her arms around both sisters. Lucien’s eyes caught Cassian’s for a moment before those icy blue stares were back, demanding justice and attention.

“He started it,” Lucien immediately said, shoving Cassian’s shoulder.

“He was wearing the stupid-“

“Hey!”

“Stupidly adorable hat,” Cassian corrected. Lucien scowled at him. Cassian batted his eyes. “Did you wanna be a pwetty wittle fox today?”

“Fuck off, no name.” Lucien’s eyes widened before Cassian could react. He tried to winnow away out of pure instinct, not quite believing the horrid insult that’d come out too fast to stop. There were wards up against winnowing, though, and no where for him to run.

“I’d rather be a bastard than a Vanserra.”

Lucien could hardly think around his relief at Cassian’s wicked smiled. “Something we have in common.”

“The only thing we have in common.”

Lucien lifted his eyebrows, then looked at the Archerons still in the doorway. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Cassian’s voice dropped as they started across the grass. “ _One_ of us is getting laid.”

Lucien really, truly didn’t know if Cassian meant he and Nesta had decided, finally, somehow, to figure something out, or if the Illyrian warrior thought he and Elain were more intimate than they were.

***

Elain watched Lucien out of the corner of her eye as they all found places to lounge around the sitting room. Mor, Azriel, and Rhysand appeared to have been waiting for ages, and Elain was fairly certain Azriel was actually asleep when Cassian flopped down on the sofa beside him. Cassian groaned dramatically (well, he did most things dramatically, but this especially so), and stretched until he bumped Azriel’s nose with his knuckles.

“I hate you.” Azriel didn’t even open his eyes.

“You love me,” Cassian crooned back. Elain wondered if Azriel had been getting enough sleep recently. He was handsome as ever, but beneath his eyes, the skin looked smudged almost, like Feyre had messed up sketching and drawn her thumb across charcoal. Elain would ask later. Nuala or Cerridwen might know.

“Have a nice tussle?” Mor asked, patting the cushion by her feet. Feyre rolled her eyes but sat there regardless. Nesta took an armchair nestled into the far back corner. Cassian’s eyes followed her.

“Where’s Amren?” Lucien asked quietly. The only open space to sit was the loveseat opposite Mor and Feyre’s, Rhysand in an armchair like Nesta’s, only pulled forward off the wall.

“Summer,” Cassian and Rhysand chimed together. Elain smiled. She loved this family, so much bigger and brighter than the one she’d had before.

She curled her pinky finger around Lucien’s, catching his eyes before tugging him toward the loveseat. She could hear his heart. He pretended that Nesta’s watching didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t good at it.

Elain sat beside him, leaning against his rigid shoulder. She smiled as the others struck up a couple different conversations at once. She shifted to whisper in Lucien’s ear. “She’s protective of me, but she won’t hurt you.”

“How are you so confident in that?” Lucien asked lowly.

Elain smiled and kissed his jaw lightly. “Because I am confident that you will not harm me.”

“Not in front of the children, please,” Mor drawled. Elain murmured an apology and pulled away from Lucien, sitting against the armrest and tucking her feet up under her. Lucien shifted under the weight of the eyes on him, leaning back into the opposite corner.

“You seem to be enjoying your time here, Elain,” Rhys smiled easily. His easy lounging made the armchair look bigger.

The Seer. The whisper rippled through the dark court. Elain pretended not to hear, though she knew her ears were turning red. She felt like a fawn led to a trap, hunters closing in.

Desire in the males faces. A power to add to their line. Calculation in the females. How easy to rip such softness apart.

His hand slipped into hers. Showing off for this court meant showing off for all Prythian. Word would spread. It had to be the right word.

Lucien nudged her gently. Feyre looked ready to launch across the room to her. Rhys was not lounging anymore. Even Nesta sat up.

“I need a moment,” Elain untangled herself and rose to her feet, scurrying out of the sitting room. Forget fawn, she was a mouse. She was tiny and silent and unimportant-

“Are you all right?” He caught her elbow, slowing her but not stopping her. Elain tugged away, wrapping her arms around herself. She shook her head, sliding away towards the kitchen. “Elain, I-“

“Just give me a moment,” Elain said, refusing to look back at him. She could feel herself trembling. Everyone in that room was a warrior, and she couldn’t even think of the Court of Nightmares without- without . . .

“Elain,” he sighed. She swiped at her face, stalking away. He grabbed her elbow again, turning her to face him. “It’s all right.” Lucien brushed his thumbs under her cheeks, kissing her hair gently. “You’re safe here.”

Elain slumped forward into him, bunching the front of his shirt in her hands. She tried to breathe with him, but the anxiety lingering in her made it hard. She felt as though she would shake apart completely. Lucien’s arms wrapped tight around her.

“They- They were watching us like we were- were exotic beasts and they- they _wanted_ me _-“_

Lucien growled low in the back of his throat, “They can’t have you.”

“There hasn’t been a Seer in so long that no one knows how the ability even works,” said Elain. His chest muffled her words. His hands stroked idle circles into her back. “ _Daemati_ are more common.”

“I know, love.”

“They want my power but I don’t-“

“Elain,” Lucien tucked his chin over her head. “I don’t care much for the High Lords right now, but I would talk to each and every one to help you control your power. It’s part of you, and I can’t believe any part of you is inherently bad.”

Elain paused. “ _Every_ High Lord?”

“Even my father,” Lucien said. He carefully pulled back. She looked up at him. “Even Tamlin.”

“But-“

“You deserve to have peace in your life,” Lucien said. She surged up on her toes and kissed him. He chased her down, one hand at her waist pressing her closer, the other working through her hair. She looped one arm around his neck.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered. Lucien bit her lip softly.

“I thought about you so much,” Lucien murmured. She tugged him back to her.

“ _Ah-HEM!”_

They jumped apart at Cassian’s half-shout. Lucien narrowed his eyes, turning, but the Illyrian wasn’t to be seen.

Nesta came round the corner of the hall instead. Elain straightened her hair belatedly. Nesta rolled her eyes, but her voice came softly. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I- Of course, I am,” Elain smiled weakly. Lucien raised a hand to scratch at his face. Elain narrowed her eyes and saw he was actually hiding a smile behind his hand. She cleared her throat, looking back to her sister. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good,” Nesta smiled. She stalked closer, eyes falling to Lucien. “I’m having a word with him.”

“Nesta,” Elain warned. She’d had a word with Grayson once. It had taken weeks to get him to touch her again.

“Just a word,” Nesta did not look away from Lucien. Elain saw Cassian peek his head around the corner. He mouthed something that Elain didn’t catch.

“I’ll survive,” Lucien whispered to her. He kissed her cheek, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You’d better be right.”

Elain watched as Nesta surged forward, grabbing Lucien by his shirt and all but dragging him down the hall.

“She’s been in a mood lately,” Cassian said quietly. Elain glanced back as he came around the corner fully.

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone how she’s been?” Elain asked, sharper than a blade. Cassian had the good sense to flinch. “Because she’s been _moody?_ ”

“We thought she was pregnant.”

Elain blinked. She hadn’t been surprised in . . . “You what?!”

“She wasn’t. Isn’t.” Cassian bounced on the balls of his feet awkwardly. “She was late, and when it finally arrived . . . Well, it wasn’t normal. It was a mess. So, we’ve only just- just recovered.”

“Recovered,” Elain repeated flatly. A mess, as in what? Buckets of blood in Nesta’s wake? In Cassian’s?

“I’m not,” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d rather not share the details.”

“Details,” Elain echoed. Sure enough, Cassian’s ears went red. “What happened?”

“That, young lady, is classified,” Cassian said lowly. Elain frowned at him. “This is one of few times that I’m not just saying that because I can.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Nesta groaned. Cassian laughed, still moving inside her roughly. Nesta’s head dropped back. “ _Oh_ , Cassian!”

_“No!_ ” Elain covered her ears with her hands. Cassian stared at her with wide eyes. She backed away from him hastily, running down the halls, scarlet from head to toe, until she reached the back door.

Rhysand hunted her down. They had to be taking turns, passing the burden of dealing with her along. She sat on the back step, and he eased himself down beside her. He didn’t speak for a moment.

“We really need to work on your mental shielding. I’ll build it into my routine next week,” he finally said. Elain nodded mutely. “It might help. You said things are worse when you’re around people. You could be touching their minds without knowing it.”

“Do I want to see your future?” Elain hummed, looking up at him. He watched her impassively. “I don’t think I have yet.”

“I have better shields than any other being alive,” he said plainly. Not a boast, or his pride; a fact. “It’s worth trying.”

Elain nodded, picking at her skirt idly. “Have Nesta and Cass-“

“It’s not my business,” he said. “Nor is it yours.”

“But I saw-“

“Trust me, so did I,” Rhysand said tightly. Elain flushed at the words, burying her face in her hands. “I haven’t seen everything, but when you panic you tend to- to shout. Mentally.”

“Feyre didn’t-“

“Lovely as she is, talented and powerful and . . .” Rhysand trailed off idly. “When in comes to our shared ability with minds, I tend to be more vigilant.” Elain frowned, didn’t answer. She’d thought they were mates, that they were equal in all ways. If they shared a power, shouldn’t it be equally shared? She worried her lip as she pondered it. Feyre had a broader range of abilities; Rhysand had far fewer powers, though perhaps that made it more concentrated. Rhysand answered before she ask, “Feyre is timid. She doesn’t want to be in other people’s minds, she still sees it as a violation.”

“It _is_.”

Rhysand hummed. “A necessary one, sometimes.” Elain made a disgruntled sound. She wouldn’t make any head way arguing with him. She forgot sometimes: Rhys was old. Old enough to know his own powers. “I’m constantly aware of people in a way Feyre isn’t. So, when you’re surprised, and you start shouting, Feyre might not know what or why, but I was already listening. Ready.”

“What are they doing inside then?”

“Everyone in the sitting room is concerned. Lucien’s getting steadily more anxious. Nesta is behind quite impressive shields; I’ve no idea what she’s doing.”

_Impressive._ Elain could think of no better word for her sister.

“Do you want to be done?” Rhys asked. Elain didn’t have to think about it much before she nodded.

“Can you tell them I’m sorry?” Elain whispered.

“Of course,” he said softly. “Do you want to go back to the townhouse or stay here?”

“I’ll be okay here,” Elain said. She’d ruined enough of the night without stealing Rhys or Feyre as an escort back to the townhouse, even by winnowing. She didn’t want anyone making a fuss.

“We’ll figure something out,” Rhys shifted to get up. He paused for a moment, then kissed her brow. “I promise.”

He went back inside.

She stayed, watching the backyard. It was still. Green. A light breeze pulled at the fledgling gardens. The sunflowers swayed happily.

She waited for the next person in the line to come out, pity her, promise things. No one came. She didn’t know if she liked that or not. She just . . . didn’t know.

She sat for a long time, doing and thinking about nothing. It was better than seeing the future. Better than being inside.

Feyre would pretend she wasn’t worried until she actually forgot to be. Nesta would pretend she wasn’t worried until she fell too far into her own issues. Elain had always been the go-between. Passive. Nesta was unyielding fire and Feyre was unyielding night and Elain was crushable, fragile blossoms. Swaying whichever way the wind pulled.

She went inside, but did not remember the slow march to her room.

Lucien sat on the floor outside her door, his face pinched. He was asleep. Elain knelt beside him, smiling as she pulled a stray hair out of his face. His eyes fluttered but remained shut. Elain touched his chin, closing his mouth lightly. She prodded his cheek.

“Lemmen,” he slurred. Elain smiled broader, kissing him gently. His forehead pressed against hers as she pulled away. “‘M dreamin’?”

“I hope not,” Elain giggled quietly. His eyes opened slowly, and he gave her a dopey grin.

“Nesta _likes_ me.”

Elain sat back on her heels, gaping. “What?”

“She said she _trusts_ me.”

_“What?!”_

***

They had a picnic on her floor. Lucien went and grabbed two plates and Elain found a spare blanket and some pillows. They ate without speaking much, both still exhausted.

“I want to stay here,” Lucien said after they were finished. Elain raised her eyebrows. “In Velaris. With- With you.”

Her deep brown eyes never left his as she nodded. “I think . . . I’d like that.”

Lucien smiled. He hadn’t smiled so much in . . . in a long time. He gathered their plates and put them up on the little table under the window.

“We should go for a walk,” Elain said as he settled back down.

“Where to?”

“The townhouse,” Elain said, shifting closer to him. Her eyes were bright in a way they hadn’t been around the others. “Sound carries here. And they’re going to be here all night.”

“Oh?” Lucien took her hand, lacing their fingers. “Why is noise going to a problem, Elain, dear?”

“Because,” she went pink. It was a glorious color, his absolute favorite to see. “I did some research about the fifth category we had decided on.”

There was a brief moment of wild confusion before Lucien figured it out. “Oh?”

“Evidently there’s quite a bit to be done that won’t make the Bond snap,” Elain said. The flush spread down her face into her neck. Lucien leaned closer to kiss the top of her head.

“I’m going to be here for a few days, there’s no rush,” Lucien said easily. Elain looked up at him, frowning slightly.

“I want you.”

“And I want you,” Lucien breathed. “But what if it snaps and you don’t want-“

She kissed him. “If Feyre and Rhys can be stupid in love with each other and get away with it, I doubt we’ll have much issue.”

Lucien pulled back. “Wait, what?”

Elain’s eyes widened. Lucien wondered if that was panic she was trying to hide. “I shouldn’t have said that, it’s not really my business-“

“No, it’s not that,” Lucien shook his head. Elain pursed her lips, squeezing his hand. He stared at the small section of blanket-covered floor between them. “We were told . . . Tamlin made it . . . We thought they were intimate as soon as she left. One way or another. And that set off the Bond, so she couldn’t come back.”

Elain shook her head. “They were friends. Azriel said they had to deal with the pining for months before Rhys and Feyre finally did anything.”

Lucien tried to focus on his power before he did something rashly. Lied to—why had he been lied to _so often_.

“Lucien,” Elain came closer, sitting almost in his lap. She kissed his cheek. “You fit here. Ask questions. No one will deny you answers.”

“You must have Rhys wrapped around your finger as much as Feyre does,” Lucien grumbled.

Elain touched his chin, kissed his nose. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so grumpy.” Lucien made a special effort to continue frowning as she kissed either corner of his lips. “And ask the right people.”

“I don’t have the benefit of sisters or in-laws here,” Lucien pointed out. Elain shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“I meant me.”

“Oh,” Lucien sighed. Elain laughed at him. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

He kissed her so she’d stop giggling, only she transferred said giggles to him. It made it terribly hard to continue.

He didn’t know that three dinners was enough time to know one was falling in love with another, but Elain was certainly trying.

“Let’s go for that walk.”

Elain nodded. He got to his feet and pulled her up after him. He grabbed their plates, but she didn’t bother with replacing the blankets.

Lucien left the plates in the kitchen, and Elain took his arm. They were all back in the sitting room. Elain waved.

Nesta nodded. Lucien answered.

He didn’t what the fuck else he was supposed to do. She’d not said much, but what it came down to was clear. So long as he was on Elain’s side, they were allies.

_She needs people on her side. Not people trying to figure out what to do with the Seer._

He agreed whole-heartedly, but was sad that she though so poorly of Feyre. He might’ve agreed with her a year ago, especially with Rhysand involved, but now? Feyre wouldn’t use anyone like that. Not when she knew damn well she could’ve been in the same position.

“Have fun, be safe,” Cassian called as they left. “No surprises in a few months, you hear?”

“Fuck off,” Lucien twisted to give him a rude gesture.

“Little fox thinks he’s brave?”

“Blue balls thinks he’s tough?”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. Lucien lifted his eyebrows, waiting for him to deny it. He had about a one-to-one chance of being right. If he was wrong, he doubted Cassian would announce to the group that he was fucking Nesta.

“Cass,” Feyre warned. “Play nice.”

“Don’t worry about me, Feyre,” Lucien said easily. “He’s just vying for favorite brother-in-law a little too soon. Timing issues, you know?”

Mor and Azriel burst out in howling laughter. Nesta cackled madly. Lucien smirked as Elain muttered under her breath, dragging him through the front door.

“You may as well just undress and wrestle naked in the yard,” she grumbled. Lucien chuckled, kissing her cheek lightly.

“Shall I ask Rhys and Azriel to join?”

“ _Lucien.”_

“Guessing that’s a no.”

She tugged her hand into his and laced their fingers together with a dark look. He grinned at her.

“Stop looking so pleased.”

“Stop looking so beautiful.” She blushed, as he knew she would. What came next was, and might always be, his favorite part: Elain’s revenge. He’d noticed her little battles. He flustered her, she came back with something bigger and better. Considering the purpose for their little walk, he felt it a good idea to initiate the game early. She certainly liked to take her time mulling things over, building up the gall to say something risqué. It was endearing in the best possible way.

She stuck her tongue out at him and tugged them along faster. Lucien bit down on his grin, lengthening his stride to keep pace with her easily.

“So, what exactly is there to be done before the Bond decides to snap?” Lucien asked when Elain didn’t do anything but become slightly more breathless at their pace. She glanced at him, her mouth agape.

“I-“ She lifted her chin, lowered her brows. “I’m still upset with you.”

“I’m just trying to figure out how many different ways I can apologize,” Lucien hummed. Elain’s ears went red to the very tips. “Has anyone every _properly_ apologized to you before, Elain?”

“I doubt there’s anything _proper_ about what you have in mind,” Elain shoved him with her shoulder lightly. Lucien chuckled, and the wind blew the right way, and he could smell how very _not_ upset she was.

He winnowed them without thinking twice about it. They were less than ten feet from the front door to the townhouse in a heartbeat.

“Cheating,” Elain breathed.

“I doubt you mind,” he muttered. He opened the first door for her, and she slid inside in front of him. He followed dutifully, letting the first door shut and holding the second as Elain marched in without waiting. He watched as she took to the stairs, never pausing or even looking back at him. Lucien smiled at the sight of her red ears and charged after her.

“If this is your attempt at punishment, consider me penitent,” he called after her. She stopped at the door to her room to give him a dirty look and shut it after her. Lucien let out a small laugh that soon turned far louder than he intended. He settled back against the wall opposite the door, crossing his arms and trying to smother his smile. She’d open it when she was good and ready.

He let his mind drift to how she might open it. She could open it looking exactly the way she had when she closed it, save more or less color in her cheeks. He hoped more. She could open it completely naked, but that went against their commitment to keeping things slow. She could open it in one of those scraps of lace that Feyre and Rhys were always all in a knot over. He didn’t think he’d mind that at all. Maybe she’d open the door in gardening clothes and insist he complete actual community service.

As a centuries old Fae, he had the patience to wait and see.

He had hardly even twitched before she opened the door a crack, peeking with one eyes. Her voice came soft and low just as her scent hit him. “I- Sorry, I- I had a vision.”

“Are you all right?” Lucien asked, stepping forward. She nodded, hiding still behind the door. Her scent was overwhelming. His blood began to rush through him. Elain’s arousal was better than any other Fae’s he’d ever known. Sure, they were Mates, and maybe he should’ve expected it, but it hit him harder than a falling Illyrian every damn time. “What sort of vision?”

“The sort I think will come true,” Elain whispered. Lucien touched the door lightly, not pushing, more testing. It opened very slightly, allowing him to see more of her face.

“Is that a good thing?” Lucien asked just as softly. Elain’s eyes threatened to swallow him whole, rich and dark as the earth she tended to. The door slipped open further.

Not scraps of lace, but a satin nightgown that barely reached mid-thigh, a brassy sort of rose color that split into a scandalous V between her breasts. Her face so flushed it crept down her neck. The corner of Lucien’s mouth pulled upward against his will.

“It’s mutually beneficial, by all counts,” Elain said. Lucien chuckled lowly at her attempt at cold rationale. He curled a strand of her loose hair around one finger, eyes fully on her collarbones. Then her shoulders. Dragged up to her lips.

He kissed her, because how could he not?

She tugged him inside with hands in his hair, she gasped against him when he kicked the door shut a little too fervently. His hands slid across and around the nightgown, letting his nails trail against it in particularly sensitive areas. Every noise she made, every breath, he savored and catalogued so he could be better next time.

“Tell me what you’ve Seen,” he murmured, trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, biting at her ear, kneading whatever flesh he could find in his hands.

“This.” She sighed. “This and more.”

Lucien clicked his tongue, biting her earlobe a little more sharply. “Come on, Elain. I want to know all the different ways you’ll let me fuck you.”

Elain dragged her nails into his scalp and whined softly. “It’s- There’s a lot- a lot of different ways.”

“Tell me when we get to your favorite,” Lucien said against her, and her knees hit the edge of her bed, and her eyes flung wide just a little too far.

Lucien, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, stepped back. Once. Twice. Until he was across the room.

“Sorry,” Elain panted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Lucien, I didn’t-“

“I went too far, don’t apologize,” Lucien shook his head, turning his back to her. Idiot, idiot, idiot, fool. He was not going to fuck his Mate. Not yet. He clenched his fists until there were crescents in his palms. “I’m not sure I can do this, Elain. I- I know you want to . . . But I can’t lose control. If I hurt you-“

“Lucien,” Elain cleared her throat. “I didn’t even say anything, and you- you knew I was . . . overwhelmed. Mates . . . we’re not just supposed to be good in bed together, or make powerful children. You _understand me_ , Lucien. Even when I don’t.”

“If I ruin this, I’ll never forgive myself,” Lucien admitted. He could feel it down to his core.

“Lucien, there’s nothing you would do that could,” Elain said softly. He stared at his clenched fists, knowing her wrong. He could do a lot of things.

Her hands slid around his waist, and he felt her check press against his shoulder. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands.

“I’ve never had a vision where you’ve hurt me and I didn’t like it.” Lucien coughed violently, twisting to look down at her. She was fully scarlet, staring at her feet. Her scent was fully overwhelming as she continued. “I’ve Seen us together in all sorts of ways, and not once did I ever get the impression that you had lost my trust for a heartbeat, _ever_.”

“Well,” Lucien hummed, touching her chin to pull her gaze to his. “I’m glad we don’t let things get boring.”

“We agreed on three dinners,” Elain murmured, “To decide if it was worth pursuing.”

“I’m familiar.”

“It might seem arbitrary, but I think I need to . . . to have that.”

“I understand,” Lucien breathed, because he did. The Mating Bond was a lot to process, even knowing or believing that it would end well. And Elain had only ever been with a human male before. Lucien highly doubted she was used to a male being _competent_ in bed, much less good. Elain was easy to overwhelm on a good day. “I’ll go slow. Slower.”

“Thank you,” Elain smiled at him, and he would’ve conquered the world if she requested it. She stretched on her toes and kissed him softly, and he tried to keep his ravenous hands away from her save to cradle her face.

She must’ve been fed up with that, because she bit his lip hard enough to mark. He growled, and let his hands fall to her waist, where he did not let them wander. She ripped his shirt in two with a sharp movement.

“Quit testing me,” he rumbled against her. She smiled, pulling her hands through his hair. He shrugged out of the broken shirt easily.

“I trust you,” she said softly, kissing the underside of his chin lightly. Lucien let those words warm him. She knew how much it meant for him to feel trusted.

Her teeth scraped against his jugular and he nearly came in his pants. His grip on her waist tightened with his groan, and she pulled away enough for him to devour her lips with his.

“Elain, I’m going to destroy you and make you beg for it if you don’t stop,” Lucien panted against her.

“I trust you,” she said again, eyes still closed. “We set boundaries. You’ll follow them.”

Her confidence in him was inspiring, but still, there was a streak of wickedness in him that would not be denied. Not when she was as much teeth and claw as he.

“Just so I’m absolutely clear,” Lucien waited even though his body ached to touch more and more and more of her. “I’m allowed to do everything up to sticking my cock up your cunt.”

Her eyes flew open at that, her mouth too. Lucien grinned even as she nodded slowly, her mouth setting resolutely. Lucien kissed her forehead. She whined, hands pulling at his biceps. “Lucien-“

He’d like to say that the first time he got Elain in a bed, he so very gently set her down. In reality, he all but threw her across the room.

She bounced from the edge of the bed to the middle, a surprised shriek rising out of her. Lucien kicked off his boots and jumped after her, pinning her to the bed beneath him with a wild sort of smile. “Is that what you wanted, dear?”

“If I ever have to climb into a bed on my own again, I’ll be depressed,” Elain giggled. Lucien kissed her, wishing he never had to stop.

His hands wandered from her waist to her thighs and back twice before he risked diving under the satin of her nightgown. Her nails dug into his shoulder and he waited for the pressure there to lessen before he moved from the outside of her thigh to the inside. He kept his left hand on her waist, flattening over her stomach. Her legs spread wider for him, knocking into his own. He moved so his legs rested within hers, staying still as her breathing ratcheted faster.

“Elain?” He leaned down to brush a kiss against her temples, then her lips. She responded only just. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded breathlessly. “It’s good, it’s good, I just- I don’t know what you’re going to do next-“

“That’s easy,” Lucien dropped his lips to her neck. “I’m going to put a finger or two in you and see just how wet you are for me.”

Elain’s thigh shuddered against his still hand. “Wh- When?”

“When I feel like it,” Lucien answered simply. Elain squirmed under him. “Why?”

“Because I want you to do it _soon_.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lucien brushed his index finger upward, searching for the last trace of something he suspected he would not find. He was right: she wasn’t wearing anything under the nightgown. He growled against her collarbones. “Elain, Elain, Elain.”

“I was just going to take them off anyway,” Elain explained. Lucien’s fingertips trailed against well-trimmed curls.

“Keep it tidy, do you?”

“ _Lucien,_ ” Elain tried to shift her hips, but Lucien kept them pinned down with practiced ease.

She was sopping wet. He meant to slide the tip of his longest finger against her and nearly shoved the whole thing inside her in one go. “ _Elain_.”

“Sorry,” she gasped as he expertly (and more cautiously) explored her. He kissed the hollow of her collarbone.

“Stop apologizing,” Lucien murmured. He fit his first two fingers in her without issue, slowly pumping them into her and watching her last attempts at composure fail spectacularly. “You’re perfect.”

He curled them and Elain thrashed. “ _Gods,_ Lucien!”

“You like that?”

“Mmm- Mhmm.” He rubbed against her clit, and her whole body jolted. “Lu- Lucien-“

“You the only person who’s ever touched yourself right there?” Lucien hummed, planting an open mouthed kiss on her breast, upset only by the fact that there was still fabric barring him from her skin.

“Ye- Yes,” Elain shuddered. Lucien paused for a moment and she all but keened, grabbing his wrist with hers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-“

He obliged her, carefully sliding lower down along her body.

“I’m going to taste you now, Elain,” Lucien kissed her navel, looking up at her. She was completely flushed, head to toe. A beautiful sight by any standards. She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Wh- Don’t stop-“

“Trust me,” Lucien smirked. “This is better.”

He kept his fingers in her but put his mouth to her clit and sucked. Even prepared for the buck of her hips, it nearly had him biting his own tongue.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Elain chanted softly.

He nearly rolled his eyes, but set about pleasuring her without reminding her yet again not to apologize. He wasn’t sure if she came twice or he so thoroughly led her through the one that it lasted longer than most. She collapsed to the bed beneath him, eyes closing. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and kissed her. She threw her leg over his waist and pulled until his yet clothed hardness came against her center.

“Seems I have something to take care of,” Elain said.

“You don’t have to,” Lucien muttered, kissing her again. It must have been one of his favorite things he’d ever done, and he doesn’t think to stop. Some part of him tells him that if he were to take Elain, here and now, that they wouldn’t be able to leave the townhouse for a month. Already, he’s drowning in her, with no plans of saving himself.

“I’ve never tried it,” Elain said slowly. Lucien’s brows furrowed; he’d lost track of her mind. “I mean . . . my mouth on- on your . . .”

Understanding her perfectly, Lucien asked, “My what?”

She swatted his chest lightly. “You know damn well what.”

“ _Daemati_ now, too, then?”

“Lucien,” she scowled.

“If Elain Archeron wants to put her mouth on my cock, I certainly won’t complain about it,” he crooned. She hit him again, pouting. He kissed her. Thoroughly. He twisted them so Elain straddled him and he was on his back. “Just don’t bite, Elain.”

Elain sat up, her weight on his lower abdomen. She looked glorious, lips swollen and nightgown askew. He hadn’t touched her breasts yet, and it was all he could think of from this perspective. Biting a mark into the underside of one. Still, she looked uncertain, unmoving. “But . . . Isn’t there anything else?”

Lucien’s mind couldn’t handle it for a second: Elain, soft, beautiful, innocent Elain, asking _him_ how best to suck him off. He almost couldn’t believe it. The territorial Fae prick in him loved it; he was the only one she _should_ have asked.

“Don’t try to put the whole thing in all at once,” Lucien reached for a pillow, shoving it under his head so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck to watch her. His mind shifted through several better positions for her to attempt it in, calculating the difference in her height and his, the height of her bed. “I can stand and you can sit on the edge of the bed, if you’d like?”

As it was, they were sideways across the middle of the bed, his feet dangling off one end but only barely. Rhysand and his massive beds. The only good think that’d ever come from the bulk of Illyrian wings.

“Isn’t it- it usually the woman kneels?” Elain asked, cheeks aflame. Lucien pushed himself up so he was sitting as well, wrapping one arm around her to steady her as she slid into his lap. He groaned at the difference.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Elain puffed at her hair, which had admittedly gotten a little wild. Lucien smoothed it out of her face easily. “I _want_ to, I just never have before. I- I don’t want to get it wrong.”

“Elain, you’re putting something that wants to be in a warm, wet place into a warm, wet place. Don’t bite down, don’t take me in further than you can stand. Bob your head, hollow your cheeks,” Lucien took her chin in his hand, kissing her gently. “I’ll warn you so you don’t have to worry about trying to swallow.” She nodded slightly. He winked, “If you want me to feel extra special, use a hand on what’s not in your mouth.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and he stood, undoing his trousers and shucking off what remained of his clothing. He wanted to jest about her nightgown’s persistent presence, but she’d gotten an oddly determined look in her eye. Lucien smiled fondly.

She teased him without meaning too, only putting a little bit in her mouth at a time before she removed it completely, her hand wrapped loosely around his base. He watched as she approached it like a warrior might his enemy, first testing this way and then that. It got very hard to focus, and his bit out a curse or two. She kept with those methods, taking him deeper into her mouth and never quite pulling off all the way, her hand still around- and then the other at his balls of its own accord- he hadn’t told her to do that, had he?

“El- Elain, Elain-“ He grunted, trying to remember why he needed her to stop. He fisted his hand in her hair, not pulling or guiding, just there, letting her determine depth and pace and the slow destruction of his better judgement. “Elain, I’m going to- I’m gonna-“

She pulled off at what had to be the last moment, and he spilled his seed on her chest, mostly covered by the nightgown. Lucien let his head fall back for a second before cursing again.

“I- shit, Elain,” he smiled lazily, wandering around her room looking for a rag to clean himself off with. He stole a handkerchief and threw it in with his clothes, sighing. “I promise I’ll clean that and get it back to you.”

Elain was still red, gaping at her own chest. “Lucien.”

Lucien covered his mouth with one hand. “Oh, _Cauldron_ , Elain, I didn’t mean to-“

She laughed slowly, looking up at him. “You’re so scatter-brained, Lucien, gods.”

“Well, it’s not completely my fault, now is it?” Lucien chuckled, wandering back to sit beside her. “I hate the thing anyway.”

Elain’s head whipped toward him, eyes wide. “You do?”

Lucien kissed the tip of her nose. “‘Course not. Still, I’d rather you out of it than in it.”

Lucien laid back on the bed, feet still planted on the floor. This was normally the part where he took her to bed, _really_ took her to bed. But that wouldn’t happen, so there was no sense getting excited again. Except, he already was. And he hadn’t put his clothes back on. So she could definitely see that.

Elain surprised him by straddling him again, leaning down over him and kissing him.

And that was her skin against his, her bare chest against his.

He had her splayed out before him in no time, eyes flying over her breasts. He brushed his knuckles along the sides of them, watching her dusty nipples stiffen. “You’ll be the death of me, Elain.”

“We should sleep,” she says half-heartedly.

“What for?”

“You have to go back tomorrow.”

The room was silent.

Lucien twisted off her, lying beside her instead. She stroked his hair softly, then let her hand rest where his jaw met his neck, scratching at the trace amount of stubble there.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

***

“Elain?! Have you seen Lucien?!”

She groaned, trying to burrow further into his warmth. “You can’t have him, Feyre.”

“Elain,” her sister banged on the door. “I need my Emissary! Where is he?”

“How should I know?” Elain answered. Lucien grunted, shifting his leg between hers. She kissed him lazily, and he answered in kind. She slung her arm around his neck to pull him closer.

The door opened then, and Feyre curse loudly and violently before it closed again. “Son of a- Elain!”

“I should probably go,” Lucien rumbled, voice low and heavy with sleep. Elain shook her head, holding tight to him. “Elain.”

“Lucien,” she whined.

“Next time,” Lucien kissed her. “Next time I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand, much less walk straight.”

“We can have dinner tonight.”

“Lucien, get your ass out of her bed, now!”

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Lucien kissed her forehead and pulled out of her grasp, wandering around the room to collect his clothes. He looked at his shirt and sighed hopelessly, pulling in on anyway. Elain propped herself on one elbow, admiring the cut of his chest. “See something you like?”

“It’s a good look.”

“So’s that,” Lucien hummed. Elain threw the covers off. He wet his lips with a dart of his tongue.

“Lucien!” Feyre barked. “You have ten seconds or I’m coming back in and I don’t give a damn what I see!”

He kissed her and threw the blankets back over her head. He was out the door and had it shut behind him before she freed herself.

She passed back out almost as soon as she let herself droop to the mattress.

Elain was going to be the worst sister in the history of sisters unless Feyre and her blasted High Lord gave Elain her Mate back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if it's got typos, it's 2am and I ain't want to read it again.


End file.
